The clash of metal against metal, of battle cries and death. The sounds of battle were like that of birds in the morning light to Speyr, beautiful. He stood for a moment, savouring the sights, heedless of danger. The handle of his sword was gripped in his left hand and the blade was impaled down through a savage, all but 2 foot of it's 4 was buried down into the floor.

All of a sudden a new chorus was thrown into the sounds of battle, fire. The unmistakable and consistent crackle was a stark contrast to the inconsistent harmony of battle all around. His eyes scanned the village and sure enough the roofing had caught fire, but from what source this blessing came, he knew not. Spotting Ekkil taking cover and waiting for the band to catch up to his advance, Speyr yanked his blade from it's resting place and ran towards his position.

A savage launched out of the trees to his right, but Speyr was more than equal to the challenge. His sword swung around and knocked the savages blade clean from his grasp as he attempted to parry. Woefully unprotected, the savage turned to flee unsuccessfully and was cut down with contemptuous ease. Stepping over to the body, the blade was plunged down directly over the heart, to make sure the savage was truly dead.

Upon reaching Ekkil he motioned to the village, "Look, fire has come! We must strike now while we have the advantage!"

__________________
Inquisitor Lord Fyodor Karamazov
"There is no such thing as a plea of innocence in my court. A plea of innocence is guilty of wasting my time. Guilty!"